


The Final, Handsome Decent into Madness

by charybdis_nerdrage



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, Handsome Jack completely snaps, Handsome Jack gets Traumatized for the 100th time, Insanity, Jack murders Tassiter, Jack murders people, Jack slowly goes insane, Light Angst, Murder, Narcissism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2020-12-27 11:50:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21118322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charybdis_nerdrage/pseuds/charybdis_nerdrage
Summary: Jack has been physically damaged beyond repair by the filty bandits he once trusted like friends. Now he has to gather himself and finish some business he now has thanks to his dear old boss, as well as some personal business he needed to finish a long time ago.





	1. Blood and Bone

**Author's Note:**

> I like the dramatic pieces, and I wanted to try a little more action. So here goes! Hope it isn't too unbearable.

The ground seemed to be shaking. At least, it felt like that. Maybe he was shaking instead. He didn't know, it wasn't like he could feel it anyway. All he could feel was the burning and melting of what used to be perfect, smooth skin. Molten material dripping down his face. The new brand on his face, the symbol for the vault, stuck there forever. He might have been screaming, maybe. He couldn't tell. His senses started slowly coming back, he saw the bandit. The disgusting filthy bandit whore that did this to him. She was walking away from him. Leaving him. Trembling arms worked to push himself up from the cold, alien flooring. The vault hunter he had hired was leaving too. Now he was alone, screaming promises into the air and sobbing. Everything he had worked for was crumbling underneath him, first it was that eye, now it was everything else.

What was sick about it was the fact he got a taste of knowledge, a tease of what he should have. Just a mere taste on the tip of his tongue of what he worked so hard for. Everything was gone.

-

Jack was walking somewhere, the flashing echo device trembling in his hand. He needed to get to the Fast Travel Station and get home. The pain was there, slowly leaving him as he gained a sliver of strength. Lucky for him, that Bandit Traitor he had hired killed off all the Dahl assholes up here, so he could safely make it to the station after cramming as many health syringes in him as he could. Only now he was realizing how much his body ached. It made sense, having that much energy shot through his body in such a short amount of time must have fried him. He would need ages to recover. Even then, he doubted he'd be the handsome man he was known as being. Now he was the scarred trigger happy wackjob, with a taste for the color yellow. Finally he made it to the station and just started piling cash into the vending machine next to it. Now with an arm-full of syringes he let himself slide down to the floor and weakly take note of the damages made on his body. It looked like there was little scarring on his body, the face was the main problem right now. He pushed a syringe into his arm. Normally he had to hiss under his breath at the feeling, but now it didn't bother him. Damn, he must have build up some real tolerance in the last 15 minutes. This was gonna be a bitch to recover from.

He felt even slightly better, and had taken off his jacket to carefully dab off the blood, snot, and tears still on his face. He probably looked disgusting right now. He would look disgusting for the foreseeable future though, so that much didn't bother him right now. He shut the one eye that would shut and let his mind go blank for a second.

He really did lose everything didn't he.

His laser, his face, his looks, his dignity. Now he was on a filthy floor, covered in blood and shaking, and on the goddamn moon too. He needed to go home, he needed to sit in his office alone and think, and damnit did he need Angel. Angel would comfort him at least a little, probably bandage him up. Actually probably not. They were like coworkers at this point, even though he wouldn't admit this out loud. 

Then his Echo device went off. Jack made the first noise in ages by letting out an annoyed groan. It was Harold Fucking Tassiter.

"John, I-" The dickbag started.

"Ohmygodohmygodohmygod shut up." Jack muffled in one long, pained groan.

"John, what the hell happened down there??"

"Bandits fucking ditched me, now I'm trying to gather my senses by the fast travel station." He said. "Why are ya even calling me didn't you fire me.." Jack was trying to gather the thoughts in his head. Had he been fired? He did, at one point, but was that still a thing?

"No, the board wanted you back on. But if you're going to sit there and mope we might reconsider." Tassiter grumbled.

"If you saw my face you'd probably let me take a breather." He snorted, amused. Goddamn did he want to kill this asshole.

"Sure." Tassiter snapped. "Well come back, I need you in your office. The board is expecting an update on the Daul soldiers still in Helios!"

Oh yeah, there were probably still some soldiers on Helios. He wished that Vault Hunter had at least left him less to clean up on his own in this condition. He still had work, and he hated it. He wanted to crawl home and practically drown himself in trashy beer until he couldn't feel pain anymore. But he had a job to do. A few actually. All of which involved murder.

One, wipe those soldiers off the map of Helios.

And two, get rid of his dear old boss, Harold Tassiter.

\- 

His boss had hung up almost 20 minutes ago, and Jack was still sitting there in a strange daze. He felt like his body was throbbing now, he wanted to throw up. He knew he had to actually get up, which wouldn't be pleasant, and he had to travel back to his office. He needed to get to his home on Helios and bandage the obvious wound on his face along with take care of whatever Tassiter wanted him to take care of. He hated this, he wished he could be the boss someday. He deeply wanted to just control everything, he wanted everyone and everything to do his bidding. He wanted portraits of himself on every wall, bigger, and over Tassiter's stupid tasteless photos. He wanted a gold statue in his office. He wanted the statue to be of himself, unscarred and better than everyone else around him. It sounded amazing. He thought almost convinced him to move again.

He did eventually end up moving, a trembling arm carefully push himself up onto his knees, then fully onto his shaking legs. He slowly put on foot in front of the other and opened the Fast Travel interface. He pressed the button for his office and close his one working eye, letting his body get torn apart atom by atom.

The Fast Travel system was always a strange thing at first, he remember distinctly throwing up breakfast and lunch after a round trip around Pandora when the stations first began popping up. He remembered saying he would rather walk. Now the reality was different. Just the sight of one in a tough situation thrilled him. A shot to just run away out of that situation was perfect. Each atom being torn apart into tiny bits, until finally being spit back out in the familiar hallway of his office was wonderful now, that warm, oxygen filled air enveloping him as the atoms pressed back together into their original form. He was set back down in the hallway to his office, a hand reaching for the wall to hold himself while he caught his bearing for maybe the 6th time that hour. The clicking of Clap-Traps at desks in the near distance was almost comforting right now.

He started limping down the long hallway to his familiar office, the cleaning robot whizzing around him as he walked. Maybe he was tracking dirt. He saw the old spray painting that scientist nutjob left on his wall. That man was obsessed with him, and it made him uncomfortable. Coming from him, that was really something. And Jack was obsessed with himself more than anyone! He gave the Clap-Trap a kick with his foot before he pushed open the doors with more of a heave then he was used to.

Finally he was in one of the places he would call a home. At least it was more of a home then compared to that damn moon.


	2. Scars Don't Heal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack still has one problem, his face. He still hasn't seen it, or touched it, and he can rightfully assumed it's incredibly damaged. But who would be able to bandage his face? How would he regain his strength in desperate times like these, and along with that wipe Dahl soldiers off the face of Helios?

Jack's office was rather cold, but it didn't bother Jack as much as it normally would. Jack had bigger things to worry about when it came to feelings and pain. He slowly walked in between the two fountains, the trickle of water quiet and slightly comforting. His office was big and regal, the portrait of Harold Tassiter hung up on the wall. Jack intended to replace it with his own face once the bastard was dead. The thought made him smile. He laid tired eyes on his desk.

The desk was quite big, but the chair was tiny. He badly wanted a bigger one, maybe one truly fit for a hero like him. He let himself slump weakly into the chair so his body could relax. There was no way he could take care of those soldiers on his own, he would need to get the glitchy new gun loaders to take care of the work for him. Those robots were his pride and joy, he wanted to really make Hyperion more than guns and pretty things. He wanted Hyperion to be a name that strikes fear into the shit hearts of the bandits down on Pandora. He already had a few ideas in the works that could be built upon, most involving the moonshot cannon. The laser ideas had been scrapped not long ago when they destroyed all he had worked for. That damn eye, it was irreplaceable. Those filthy creatures didn't understand, they didn't understand the importance of such a device. Oh the filth he could wipe away with ground breaking precision. The idea made him so excited just to get to work, but he quickly discouraged himself. Without the eye, he would have to go back to the drawing board.

His eye scanned the surface of the desk with a hint of concern in the back of his mind. His eyes then met the eyes of his daughter. Well, the one in the picture. She didn't have the marks in this one, and looked clearly happy. She was laughing. He had quite liked this picture in the previous years, but right now it didn't make him feel right. It didn't make him feel comfortable. He reached over a bloodied, gloved hand and let the picture tip face down onto the desk surface. That was for the best. He couldn't distract himself with silly things like the past. All he could see was the future, and that future was golden, baby. He smirked at the thought. He should say that when he takes role as the CEO, that's some good speech material.

The amusement quickly faded as he realized that he really couldn't fit the role of CEO with an ugly mug like this. He'd have to get it fixed. This wasn't something bandages and a kiss better could fix, he could feel it in his face, and the fact he couldn't see anything out of one eye but bright red and black blotches. He hesitantly moved his hand up to feel for the damage. It was strange. He had been injured for almost an hour and he hadn't even bother checking how bad the damage was. Was it out of fear? No. He didn't get scared, he was too busy to get scared. His thin fingers delicately made contact with the scarred tissue. He grimaced slightly at the feeling. It didn't feel good, it felt strange. His skin used to be rather soft and comforting, now it felt leathery and tough. After a moment of touching his ruined chin, he moved his hand up. He felt the main indent and his heart sunk. It was deep. It was so, so deep. He was never going to have that heal. The scar was still warm, a clear, obvious indent into his cheek, and now that he was feeling around, his entire face up to the middle of his forehead. He moved his hand away and looked at it, the fingertips now spread with a thin layer of blood. He was still bleeding. He knew he had gotten a nosebleed from the punch, but was it really that bad? It couldn't be. He needed a mirror didn't he. He got up a little too fast, stumbled slightly and started walking towards the bathroom just down the main hallway to his office. He felt the eyes of Portrait Tassiter boring into his back, but just like he had so many times, he ignored the feeling. He reassured himself that his own, much superior portrait would soon be in it's place. Along with all across Helios.

His boots tapped as he walked across the black metal, practically racing against his screaming nerves to the bathroom. He assumed correctly that no one would be here except some claptrap unit, which he mentally noted didn't even need to use the damn bathroom. Then again, neither did he. Jack hurried to a mirror, his hands grasping the marble counter top desperately as he attempted to keep himself upright. 

He felt his stomach churn as he looked at the mess on his face. The scar was a deep shade of blue at a this point, bleeding slightly around the symbol. The bloodiest part of his face right now was the eye that remained a white, pale sphere in his skull. The sight made him feel like he was going to lose his breakfast.

"ohmygodohmygod-" he muttered, stumbling back to a stall to lock himself in. He needed to let out his breakfast, it was as good as gone. Sure enough, it all came out and into the toilet. He needed medical attention, most likely. If his eye was still bleeding and it had been a full hour, it was probably serious. The blood had to be new, he had carefully wiped off his face at the vault entrance with his jacket. Even then, it usually takes about an hour for blood to dry. Where would he get real attention while the station still had Dahl soldiers alive, and most likely angry since he did kill their leader like twice.

Then he realized, he probably needed that creepy scientist. Pretty much the only real professional he hadn't air-locked the day previous. What was his name again? Oh why did he care, the psycho got a claptrap to spray-paint his image on the wall of his office, defacing his property, first of all, and second of all, creepy. The guy asked him to answer some questions, but they got way too weirdly personal. He only really answered one. And they were just to make him 'live forever' in his words. The guy wanted to make an AI of him. Sounded stupid. Unless he showed him some serum that would give him eternal life. Jack had enough knowledge of basic science to know that wasn't remotely possible.

He really didn't want to be in the personal presence of that nutjob, but it was probably way better than him accidentally bleeding to death, or getting an infection. He couldn't die of that, that was a dumb way to go. But he had no other choice. He let out a soft sigh and checked the guns on his forearms. He was probably gonna die on the way there anyway.

He then left the bathroom, walking down the hallway and out of his office with purpose. He wasn't going to die to Dahl soldiers. Yet another dumb way to go.

The Hub of Heroism was probably the most interesting part of Helios, according to him. It was also the most promising. He could see it now, a big statue of himself in the middle, giant projected portraits put out of himself looking educated and brilliant. Maybe some art of all the absolutely selfless, heroic things he did over the years. He was so excited, it would be a new time for Hyperion then. He heard gunshots and shook himself out of it. Time for the part that he dreaded the most, next to actually talking to the nutjob. Running.

Running as fast as his weak ass body could carry him, he carried himself through the Hub of Heroism. His boots hit the floor with tired thuds, and Jack was literally seeing stars. He was not gonna last long if he took a breather, he might pass out. He could take a breather when he got to the imprisonment room, a fitting place for a nutjob in his opinion. Jack laid eyes on the place and sighed heavily in relief, strangely enough. The doors were locked up, but he could get in and be safe from the soldiers. He hit the door desperately, his head feeling lighter. The doors flew open and Jack stumbled into the room, letting the doors shut with a thud. The Hyperion doors had no ability to dramatically slam.

"Oh my-" Came an excited voice from the floor of computers. Jack let out a frustrated huff.

"Look, Jackass. I just need bandages and time to gain my... my strength. Then I'm... then I'm out of here." He managed to hiss, still out of breath and weak from the run.

"Of course, Jack!" Professor Nakayama excitedly squeaked as he practically skipped down the stairs and started walking to the man.

Fucking hell, this was going to be unbearable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all liked that one! Honestly the only thing motivating me with this stuff is comments, and I got the first one on the first chapter today and got motivated enough to finish this chapter.
> 
> I've always had trouble adding interesting conflict, and I thought sprinkling in some weird stalker scientist would mix things up.
> 
> Also if you liked the chapter, I'd like it if you commented! Quickly finding out that shit motivates and inspires me, and if you got any ideas about where the story could go I'd love to hear about it. Maybe even prompts for future pieces? idk


	3. Fanboys Never Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack has to deal with maybe the creepiest fan he's ever met, all because his face is in critical condition. He needs energy and bandages, can Professor Nakayama supply? Can Jack survive the uncomfortable conversations with this absolute nutcase?

The man was rather strange, his wide eyes looking Jack up in down slowly in excitement. Jack was already severely uncomfortable. Normally fans were an ego boost, but this one? This one sent shivers down his spine when he passed the guy on trips through the R&D labs.

"Oh Jack, I'm absolutely thrilled you're here!!" He said, quickly walking to the man. "That vault hunter must have told you about me, maybe even that wonderful doppelganger that took a liking to me." He sighed fondly. In clarification, no. His new double had not taken a liking to the scientist. His double was equally as weirded out, if not more.

"No. No to both options. I just know you're the only scientist around here that I can get to, don't let it get to your head." Jack said coldly. He wanted this over as quickly as possible. "If ya can't see, I'm in bad shape. You got any first aid down here?" Professor Nakayama just turned around and walked up the small staircase to the floor full of computers, and a cell with a small prototype he had finished only a while ago. Jack assumed he was supposed to follow. "Hello?-" 

"Yes yes!! Yes I have those I think!" He walked across the raised area above the cells, looking through containers for the bandages Jack wanted like it was the only thing he had ever wanted to do in his lifetime.

Jack took this opportunity to distract himself with the surroundings. It was a rather simple set up, a few computers with screens filled with code and complex algorithms. Jack was a man of code and tech, not one for math, or caring about other people's math. It didn't much interest him until he saw a computer with recordings of his own voice. Must have been from those questions Nakayama had asked him a while back over call. After a closer look, the computer seemed to be analyzing the small bits of information to create some voice generator. Jack wondered what it was going to, that was until he looked in the small personal cell to the right and saw a small loader with a hologram of his face being projected above it. It was buzzing off things about abs, money, and hot chicks like wildfire, and bumping into walls. He let out a snort of amusement. That was whats-his-face's excuse for everlasting life? Yeah, thank god he didn't agree to that shit.

"I found it!" Nakayama proclaimed, holding up rolls of bandages excitedly and walking fast to Jack. "I found it for you, Jack! Would you like me to put it on?" The professor was practically bouncing on his heals in excitement. Jack debated saying 'fuck no', but then realized how he'd probably throw up again at the sight of his own face, even then there'd have to be a mirror nearby.

"Fine." Jack grumbled. Nakayama beamed and gestured to a chair in the corner. Jack complied and awkwardly hunkered down in the metal seat, getting more uncomfortable the closer Nakayama got to him. Once the man had his hands on Jack, he felt himself tensing up. The bandages felt strange but he knew they were necessary. They were being wrapped around his face awkwardly, he did still need to see what was in front of him after all, especially if he was going to wipe Dahl soldiers off the map of Helios today.

"Your hands look so soft Jack, the nails are perfectly cut!" Nakayama mentioned.

"Uh...- Yeah uh- Thanks?" Jack mumbled, the final bits of bandages being wrapped around the back of his head. The whole thing was rather messy, mainly wrapped around the back of Jack's neck and head, the material on his face being held in with medical tape the professor had found in one of the bins with the bandages. When Nakayama seemed finished he touched Jack's cheeks for an uncomfortable amount of time. "You done, creep-show?" Jack snapped, poking the professor's leg with his foot in a sharp, painful manor. If Jack had the choice he'd kick the man's kneecaps in, but he still needed something to help him regain his strength.

"Yes!" Nakayama snapped attention, ignoring the sharp pain in his leg as he stepped back.

"Okay okay, I need to get my strength back. I have a busy, shit filled day. I need to not pass out during it."

"Yes sir!" Nakayama went back out to search for whatever the hell would help Jack.

The pain was still there, present as ever, but at least had something to temporarily catch the blood that would be coming out of his face for the foreseeable future. He didn't feel like he needed to cry, he didn't feel like he needed anything right now. Other than the enjoyment of hearing the sounds of those filthy creatures down on Pandora screaming in agony as they watched their closest family and friends get murdered and ripped apart. The image brought a smile to Jack's face. He had never found enjoyment in such things until now. The idea thrilled him again. Oh how he wanted that satisfying feeling after a kill. That twitch in his eye as he looked upon his work, that rush in adrenaline that wouldn't go away for hours, that proud feeling that came over him whenever he watched the life leave someone's eyes. The interest was new, and welcome. The pocket watch chain he had in his pocket hadn't crossed his mind until he imagined crushing Tassiter's windpipe with it. That's how he was gonna do it, a view of Pandora behind him while he did it maybe. He already felt a rush of excitement. He'd have to wait though, he needed to look the part, a bandaged face wouldn't fit the bill. He needed real solutions.

Nakayama came back with a bottle of blue stuff. "Drink!" The professor insisted. Jack debated, realized he didn't have any other choice, took the bottle, and chugged.

Then everything went black and Jack fell out of his chair, hitting the cold metal floor.

-

Jack woke up, slightly bleary eyed. Where was he again? Oh yeah. The nutjob. Jack let out a loud groan and looked around. He was in a cell, looks like. The door was open so he wasn't in any real danger. He was in the bed, tucked in tightly like a scared 5 year old. Then he made eye contact with Professor Nakayama.

The weirdo was watching him in bed, oh my fucking god.

"Holy sweet taint-" Jack yelled, jumping and nearly falling out of bed. "Why the fuck are you watching me??" 

"I just wanted to keep an eye on your condition!"

"Nerds can do that WITHOUT staring at me while I sleep!" Jack insisted. He wanted out of this shit. He started getting out of bed and back up, until he realized he felt younger practically. This was the best energy he'd had in years, and he was almost 40! "Woah-"

"Ah yes! It worked! I'm thrilled!!" Nakayama squeaked, rushing to Jack. Jack backed away and looked at his hands.

"I feel fucking younger.." He mumbled.

"Of course! That's what it does! I might market-" Jack then interrupted the professor.

"Awesome, I'm out then. Bye, fucking creep." He started leaving in a goddamn hurry.

"But Jack I wanted to show you my projects! Like AI tech! Rejuvenating Solution! Prosthetic skin!" Nakayama started following Jack towards the door. Jack stopped in his tracks at the last thing.

"... Prosthetic skin?" His intrigue peaked, that had to be something he could use to his advantage.

"Yes! Prosthetic skin!" Nakayama then smiled proudly now that he had the man's glorious attention, finally.

"Tell me more." Jack turned to the professor.

"Well, it's supposed to be a skin-like material that morphs to the surface of your face or arm or leg or anything like that, and it adjusts to your slightest movements with ease!"

"So a party mask on steroids." Jack nodded to himself.

"Um.. Yeah sure." Nakayama nodded. "The only problem I have is that I need funding. I have the material, I just need funding for the proper complicated electronics, as well as a print for molding...-" Nakayama continued.

Oh this was perfect, finally things were going Jack's way. This was the perfect solution to his face problem. He could even make himself look even more handsome than he already was. He could make his face thicker and sharper, it would be the perfect thing, the perfect solution. He would be the most handsome he had ever been, the this nut case was the key to that, surprisingly.

"I'm interested. How much do you need, and how long will it take to finish one?" Jack asked, cutting straight to the chase. The less he had to talk to the guy the better.

"Oh it should take 2 weeks to create a face with the proper supplies and materials, but I need my supplies in my lab. While the soldiers are here the place should be on a full lock-down." Nakayama said, a glimmer in his eye that FINALLY Jack was interested in his projects. It had taken flowers, vandalism, messages, posters, and so many spare claptrap units and he had finally done it!

"On it. I'll get you the money, and I'll get you back into your office by tonight, I promise you that."

"Yes sir!" Nakayama nodded, bouncing on his heals in excitement.

Jack nodded. "I'll keep in contact then. You know where to contact me, clearly." He said. Nakayama nodded yet again, eagerly.

Jack then turned around and left out the door, Nakayama waved by, then the door shut. Jack got back to a swift run as he shot down Dahl soldiers left and right with a new energy and a bandaged face. He was excited to finally get to the fun part, murdering the assholes that started this shit in the first place. He turned a corner and made it to his secret stash. He punched in the code and the doors moved open with a metallic hiss. Jack let himself in, looking at the racks of ammo and firepower in front of him. 

Oh this would be so much fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure how I feel about this one, especially with the way I wrote Nakayama. I hope it came across the perfect amount of creepy. I think he sounds a little different because he's probably never had Jack this close to him, and giving him eyecontact? He might be acting differently. But idk I might just be making that up to make myself feel better.
> 
> Anyway, comment if you can, I'd like that! It gives me a strange motivation and might actually get me to get a good way through this thing, maybe even finish my first ever fanfic? Who knows-


	4. Blood Guts and Ecstasy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack has to deal with the Daul soldiers, and with himself. How is he gonna manage all that with a crumbling mental health?

Jack's feet skidded against the cold metal floor as he hit behind a corner of a wall, loading up a gun with the ammo on his belt and equipping a better grenade mod he stole off one of the now dead soldiers. His echo was telling him there was only maybe 10 left, all congregated just a few turns away in the depths of Helios. Lucky for him, and unlucky for them, Jack had the entire build of the place mostly memorized. Jack may have been covered in blood, but the only damages done on him that hadn't been from previous accidents in the day were a bullet graze on his right shoulder, which hurt like a skag-fucker he might add, and a sore sting of pain in the lower part of his back. He wasn't getting old, he knew that. He was only 38, which despite everyone insistence, wasn't that old. It must be something related to the amount of power and shit blasted through his nerve system only 2 hours ago. That had to be it. If it wasn't, Jack didn't have time to worry about it right now.

The man was good at having a one track mind. He was always good at keeping the eyes on one goal. Currently, the main goal was becoming Hyperion CEO. This massacre of pain was only a sub step to what he actually had planned.

Jack inhaled a small breath and exhaled through his note sharply. 10 more to go, and he only had a pistol and 2 grenades left. He took off down the hall yet again, this time the soldiers were aware of his presence though. That wasn't super ideal, but he could definitely handle it. He jumped up onto a crate and tore a grenade from his belt, chucking it out with his good arm towards the incoming soldiers. Yells came in response as the group scattered. The explosion went off, damaging 2, and knocking one on the ground. Jack jumped up from the crate and landed down on top of the one now on the floor, and shot the Hyperion pistol directly into the soldier's sturdy skull. Jack relished in that glorious moment of realization before the soldier's head popped like a balloon and sprayed brains and blood onto the floor and on Jack's nice boots. The programmer paid the unending joy in his mind no attention and blasted 2 others into small red bits and blood on the floor.

"Holy TITS!" Jack yelled with a smile, blasting another soldier's dumb head open with a bang and a pop.

When a soldier came behind him, Jack swung his pistol back, knocking the soldier in the head. He winced and stumbled back before Jack shot him again, 5 times in the chest. He wanted to mix up this slaughter, he liked mixing it up. He was halfway done, the soldiers now trying to run off and escape. He pressed a button on his echo, alerting the loaders he had set up in the previous battles of his location. He then started running up after the soldiers. The sound of buzzing loaders grew nearer, the clicking of their robotic joints and the humming of their robotic voices grew ever closer. Jack was planning on cornering the 5 remaining soldiers then taking them out from there. The man was running off nothing but adrenaline and pure joy, his clouded mind needing nothing else but blood, guts and pure ecstasy.

Finally the loaders arrived, halting the soldiers in their tracks and already beginning their fire. Jack followed up behind them and started shooting. 1 in the head, 2 others in the gut and chest, then he finished the last two with a final grenade of victory. The battle was won by the amazing, perfect, flawless, Handsome Jack. Damn that had a good ring to it. He should keep that.

Then again, maybe he could copyright the name if he didn't look so damn ugly. Jack blinked away the haze and came back to reality, his Echo violently buzzing on his hip. Someone was calling him and he only just noticed. Was he going insane? He was only just realizing he was covered in guts and blood, his favorite yellow shirt and brown Hyperion Jacket now stained with sticky red. Not to mention his boots were soaked in the stuff, he must reek too. The thought made Jack shutter, he already didn't look flattering with the bandages covering his tattered face, now he looked like he belonged in a goddamn asylum.

'You don't need to apologize for doing what was right, Jack, you're amazing!' His mind decided to speak up, so loud it made Jack flinch.

"Who- I-" He looked back at the loaders behind him, which were now reverting to their normal forms. Jack shuttered slightly and nervously flattened out his jacket sleeve with his gloved hand. That was fine, he was fine. Whoever it was, they were definitely right. He was amazing. He was Handsome Jack, after all.

After shaking himself again, Jack finally picked up his echo. Whoever was calling him called back, and it was Tassiter. Bless his soul.

"John, you did it. Now go back to your office and clean up, you look like absolute skag shit."

"Sir, I humbly request to go home." Jack requested, his voice shakier than he had intended to come out.

"John I need you working on-"

"Call me JACK." He said, gritting his teeth hard.

"Ah yes- Of course. /Jack/, I need you working on getting all the workers back on Helios. I can't have an empty space station up there full of nothing but claptraps and you. I need work to be done." Tassiter continued.

"Mhm well I'm going home. If you object, I'll counter by saying I saved your ass, and you're going to shut up at that and do your fucking job. Understood, pumpkin?" Jack spat. His blood boiled at his bosses nature. It was like he didn't even care at all. Jack mattered a lot more than most people, judging by his smarts and potential good looks. 

"Fine, I can compromise if you actually go up to your little quarters in Helios and take a break." Tassiter said, understanding the potential threat and abiding by it.

"Fine." Jack grumbled.

"Fine."

"FINE." The bloodied hero finished, hanging up and storming off to the elevator in a fit of rage. Oh how he wanted to murder that no good son of a bitch. Tassiter deserved every last second of pain Jack was going to give him.

-

Everything was so bright. Where was he? It was hot. Really, really hot. It took a while for Jack's eyes to fully adjust to his surroundings. It was all just whiteness, he saw a figure. No, 2. Maybe 3. There was one on the ground. Jack began stepping forward, his boots clicking against the ground and filling the void of silence. He heard more, words he couldn't recognize fully. But he recognized faces, he recognized Lillith's face, but older and more matured. She had grown. Someone else was there too, with a gun. A gun pointed at... Jack.

Future Jack looked much more handsome, but he was covered in blood, sobbing for mercy. Anything. Jack's eyes widened before the bandit pulled the trigger and future Jack was on the ground, dead.

Jack's heartbeat went wild, crazy, he was getting light headed, everything was fading quickly until he woke up.

He shot up from his bed, breathing heavily and yelling in panic. Jack looked down at his hand, they were trembling with fear he hadn't known in a long time. He felt tears prick up at the corners of his eyes, and it slid down through the thick bandages and stung the scar, making him cry more until he let out a pained, trauma filled sob.

"Fuck- oh fuck-" he mumbled under his breath, shaky and reassuring as he slowly got up from his bed in his sleeping quarters on Helios.

Bare feet padded down the tile floor, a terrified man walking to the kitchen with fear in his eyes, his body trying desperately to fight back the shameless sobs from escaping his throat. Hands opened cabinets, looking for that bottle of liquor he kept in the quarters despite company policy. He kept a firm grip on the bottle once it was found, his twitchy fingertips twirling the cap off it. He brought the bottle to his lips and took a long drink as if his life depended on it.

"Fucking hell...-" he grumbled, his system now calm for the time being.

Jack hadn't had a bad dream in years, not since his wife died. Was that dream... real? Was that going to happen to him someday? Was the hero really going to die? None of it made sense, it terrified him. Nothing had made since all day, not his boss, not his life, not his situation, not even his mind was cooperating.

'That could never happen to you, you're amazing!' His mind whispered to him. Jack sighed and took a long swig of his drink. He deserved it. After all, his mind had a point. That could never happen to him.

He was Handsome Goddamn Jack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Sorry this took a while, I really needed inspiration on what to put here. I'm not fantastic at writing plot.
> 
> Also Jack is starting to talk to himself, he's going insane. We love that.
> 
> Half of this was written on my phone, so there might be way more typos.
> 
> Also please comment if you'd like! I love getting comments and it gets more content out so much faster.


	5. Masks Make Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that the Dahl Soldiers have been cleared out of Helios, Jack just needs to bide his time until he finds the perfect time to strike at Tassiter. But the problem is, Nakayama hasn't called Jack all day. Will they ever start on his mask? Or will Jack have to live looking like a horror movie monster all his life?

The clock ticked, loud and present. Jack's fingers tapped the desk in unison. His face was pounding in pain, but he has to be here for his boss.

Overall, the recovery of Helios had been going smoothly, even though it had been only a full day since Jack had taken care of the rest of the Dahl Soldiers. Programmers, Scientists, and disposable Hyperion workers had been filing in since sunrise and would continue for a while until Helios was back to it's normal hustle and bustle. Tassiter had laid off Jack for a little while, only calling in to ask him to type up a few documents and order a few bots to clean up some remaining blood in the nooks and crannies of Helios, that had been a result of Jack's trigger happy fingers the previous day. He had stayed in his office the entire day.

However, there had been no calls from Nakayama. Jack was anxiously waiting some form of update on when he could come down and start his much-needed face mask. Jack wasn't denying how much he badly needed it. His fingers continued to tap his office desk in unison with the clock. He needed to take a long walk. Maybe he could just go down to R&D himself and see Nakayama, the creep probably wouldn't mind being in Jack's presence with no warning.

With that, Jack got up, his back straight and confident as he walked down his hallway in long strides, stepping over the cleaning bot that took care of the hallway floor. His boots clicked against the ground as usual, and he ignored Tassiter's dead portrait glare like he did every time. Jack stopped at the fast travel and paused before pressing into the interface of the thing.

Wheels buzzed and rolled near him, a claptrap. Jack tensed, his posture crumbling as he hunched over to protect his face from being seen. The wheels sounded like they had rolled away, but Jack was too afraid to look. His eyes glued on the interface in front of him.

Why was Jack so suddenly scared? Why did he dread having that idiot robot see his disgusting face? Holy shit. He was insecure. He really did need that mask as fast as possible, but how was he going to get it if he was going to be tensing up at the mention of his bandages every 5 feet. He would need to discuss this with the scientist though, he might just have to get to R&D, then walk fast to his office. That was the plan, and it might be an awful plan, but he could work with it. He pressed confirm on the travel, and his body started tearing apart atom by atom like it usually did. Jack felt all the pain that he had felt the entire day just go away, even for just a moment. His molecules spun and twirled in the space, until they were all shoved back together in the right place. Jack's boots clicked to the ground, and the pain pierced through his skull again like it had the past 36 hours.

It most likely hurt so much worse because his body had been dealing with that pain for so long, even a moment of relief would amplify the feeling for a temporary amount of time. That was simple logic, how did he not predict it. Jack let out a shaky sigh as he let himself lean slightly against the vending machine next to the quick travel station.

"Oh sweet taint-" He grumbled, pushing through the sudden pain to reach the somewhat normality he had been conditioned too. He felt okay again, and he glided his fingers through his hair. He pressed into his eyes lightly with the pads of his fingers, just to keep himself up and running. His eyes opened and he scanned the hallway. Where the hell was Nakayama's office again? Jack liked to think it was in a dark cellar like an evil goblin or some shit, but he knew the man was surprisingly a real scientist, with real opinions, and a real education, no matter how creepy the guy was. He walked down the halls of R&D, looking at the cages full of creatures from the moon or planet, all making clicking and snapping noises in their throats as they moved their boney bodies around in the now safely barricaded in their containment chambers. Jack always hated the noises the things made.

A set of doors glided open for him, and when he took a step in a collection of trays came clashing from a man's arms in a blind panic.

"JACK" Came a surprised squeak. "OH Jack, Jack I'm sorry! I thought you were going to contact me and I didn't want to bother you so I just didn't contact you because I-" Endless words of explanation came spewing out of the balding man's mouth, but he was quickly interrupted by Jack's snappy tone.

"I don't need explanation. I just need to know if you've started on my mask." He stated coldly. Nakayama gulped and nodded slightly.

"Well sir, I have the materials... I just need the mold. I need the shape of your face, so I can sculpt the mask accordingly to fit your aesthetic needs, all for you, of course." He smiled

"Alright alright, just make is quick." Jack sighed as he looked at the machine that Nakayama gestured to.

"I'll just get a scan of your face and we can get the base molded in plastic." Nakayama reached for his hand, and Jack batted it away as he walked to the machine.

"I said make it quick. I need this thing done." Jack spat. Nakayama quickly nodded in response and moved Jack accordingly.

"Can you take your bandages off, sir?" Nakayama asked, shaking in his boots, but trying not to show it.

Jack nodded and tore off the layers of bandages over his face, letting the cold air hit the scar on his face. It felt raw without the bandage to hide under, but it wasn't something he couldn't handle. He would have new ones on in just a moment. Nakayama stepped to the control panel and started typing. As much as a creep that Nakayama was, he knew his way around a machine. An arm moved up gracefully from the device and moved around Jack's face. Nakayama instructed Jack to stay completely still. Jack did as he was told, keeping a straight face as the arm moved around and a bright green light began to slowly scan over his entire face. The light was warm, but not too hot. When it hit the exact center of his face the computer let out a light, pleasant beep. The light shuttered and paused for a moment before starting up again and moving down across the remainder of the face. Finally, a confirming ding came from the computer and Jack was allowed to move. A 3D printer across the room began buzzing and whirring, a rough replica of Jack's scarred face slowly being built up out of plastic. The tech they had up here was incredibly advanced, so the printer would work faster compared to others in other companies. Jack walked towards it and looked at the replica.

"So that's what I look like..." He mumbled.

"Only right now, sir! Soon enough we'll have the main mask molded and the locations for the hinges decided on." Nakayama smiled proudly, excited Jack was interested in what he had.

"Hinges?" Jack did a double take and looked at Nakayama with concerned. "Like- Hinges in my face? That'll look awful!"

"No no sir I'm SURE you'll make it work." Nakayama reasurred. Jack was unsure. Was he really gonna let this wack job drill hinges into his face?

'Just one small sacrifice for perfection, Jack.' His mind whispered, and a shiver ran down Jack's spine. Yes, it was just one small sacrifice. And after all, he could pull of anything. He was Handsome Jack.

He could work with this. He just needed a little more time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took a surprisingly long time to write, I'm not sure why? I hope this story isn't getting boring to people, I'm trying to keep it interesting.
> 
> I hope it's working.


	6. The Ticking Clock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack's mind is beginning to spiral, he can feel it slipping away. He cannot sleep, whenever he does, he's greeted with either pain or a nightmare worse than the last. He doesn't know what to do but wait, and Jack isn't a patient man in these trying times.

3 am.

The clock was ticking so loudly, so much louder than it normally would at night. Jack was drenched in a cold sweat, lying flat on his back on top of the mattress in his somewhat comfortable housing unit on Helios. It had been days since production on his mask had started, and every day had been a living hell. Jack could feel a bag building over his working eye, the slightly swollen one feeling dead and unused as it usually did. This was getting to him, wasn't it? He hadn't even called his daughter once to tell her he was okay. That was so unlike him, even if she really didn't like him anyway, he still would have at least messaged her once after getting back onto Helios originally. Jack's heart stung as he realized something. She hadn't bothered to try calling him either. The sheets grew somehow colder against Jack's bare skin, nothing but an old shirt and boxer shorts between him and the chilling fabric. He shivered and rolled over onto his side, he jolted as hot pain shot through the most damaged side of his face. His body rolled away from the position, the side of his face reeling and pounding from the irritation.

"Fucking- God-" He hissed under his breath. "Wrong side. Not that side." He scolded his body, wishing it would do what it was told for once. He had made the mistake of laying on the side of his blinded eye yet again. It had happened a few times in the past few nights, one of the millions of reasons he hadn't yet gotten over an hour of sleep in a week. He hated this, every single second of it. There was no way he'd get any more sleep if he tried, might as well get up. 

Jack hauled his body into an upright position, the darkness enveloping him uncomfortably. He stretched one arm out, letting his sore joints pop. It felt a million leagues more satisfying than the pain he'd dealt with a second previous, his blind eye still vaguely pounding with pain. Jack let out a loud exhale, letting his shoulders relax along with the release of breath. His arm reached out and fiddled with his cheap company lamp, searching the smooth metal surface for the familiar switch that would ban darkness from the room. His fingers found the metal switch and pressed it, letting the device turn on with a satisfying click and hum. The light flickered on and filled the room, Jack had to squint to let his eyes adjust to the newfound brightness.

"When did that light get so bright..." He grumbled, averting his gaze and shifting it to the details of his small quarters.

Jack had only gotten the place recently, and he had never really looked at it. He couldn't say why, no wait he could. It was boring, it was ugly and boring. That was it. Jack desperately wanted more, but the only nice place that he knew he deserved was the CEO's penthouse, and he'd have to be patient for a few more weeks to get his hands on that.

The place was a bland dark gray, metal walls and shitty carpeting, clearly the cheapest Hyperion could buy. Stripes of red wound around the room, again, that gloomy color scheme that Jack despised. Tassiter had made him change everything back after the Dahl soldiers were long gone, and Jack wished he had the ability to keep everything that friendly yellow and white. An empty desk with nothing but a worn down laptop on top was placed in the corner, no function other than Jack's emergency work desk if he couldn't get back to the office. It also served as the only source of real entertainment outside of tormenting Janice from accounting. A bag of his things was leaning against the desk, full of papers he most likely didn't need anymore and probably abandoned snacks that he'd find in a few weeks and not remember when the hell he even bought them. Then came the thing about the room he hated the most, the clock. It was still so loud. Jack knew he hadn't changed the sound, you couldn't do that with this clock. The clock itself was black, a yellow and a read stripe sweeping across the surface below the lit up white numbers. The clock only had one hand, the one that pointed out the hour. No, Jack had not done that himself, it came like that with the quarters. It was a travesty of design in his humble opinion. Jack shifted uncomfortably as the tick rung uncomfortably in his ears. Over and over again. He needed to listen to something else or he'd go insane.

Finally he caved, leaving the protective sheets and letting his bare feet make contact with the rough, shitty carpeting of the room. He stood, letting his body straighten and stretch. He put one leg in front of the other, carrying his body haphazardly to the bathroom, which was somehow just as cold as the bedroom. How, Jack had no ideas. He opened the door and felt around the wall next to it for the light switch, he finally found it and switched the bathroom light on. It was bright, brighter than the lamp he'd adjusted to a minute prior. He squinted and adjusted yet again, looking into the frameless mirror with a tired, dull expression. He looked dead, his face wrapped tight in the protective bandages, deep dark bags underneath his one working blue eye, and a faint stubble beginning to creep up his neck and stop abruptly at the severely damaged skin. His face wouldn't be growing any hair in the foreseen future, not like it mattered. No beard would cover up this mess, and he could never grow anything but a soul patch in the first place, so it didn't really matter. He'd probably need to shave one of these days, maybe not now. He hadn't slept in days, and the closest contact to humans was that secretary he passed on the way to his office one morning. Jack let out a groan, letting out his week's frustrations and trauma with noises instead of words. He didn't trust anyone around him to listen.

Jack looked back at himself in the mirror. What had he looked like before all of this? He couldn't even really remember. His heart began to pound. He couldn't remember. He couldn't remember what it looked like or what it felt like to have a face that people didn't feel sick looking at. He couldn't remember not having to be careful of what side he laid on in bed, he couldn't remember ever getting a good amount of sleep, never getting a healthy amount of work done. Had he ever even felt good about himself? He couldn't remember. The only bit of him that felt stable was the bit of him that shuttered with satisfaction as he squeezed someone's innocent windpipe until the air left their lungs and the life left their eyes. That terrified him. He covered his view of himself in the mirror, bit it wasn't enough. The wounds were just too big, his injuries were just too severe to cover up temporarily. He left the bathroom in a rush, his feet hitting the uncomfortable carpeting as he opened the closet outside his room. He grabbed a sheet, the one the company had issued him. The ones he hated, and he went back to the bathroom with a roll of duct tape. He hadn't physically done anything in days, and the first thing he does it cover the disgusting view of himself. He draped the sheet over the mirror hastily, ripping the duct tape from his packaged role with a deafening rip. He stuck it to the wall, he didn't care if it damaged the room. He didn't care anymore. He just didn't want to see whatever it was that whore had turned him into. Those bandits, those dirty, disgusting, vile, bandits. They would all die. He wanted them all to be wiped off the face of the universe, not a trace to be found. HE deserved everything. HE was the one that deserved those vaults. And no one, not the company, not the eridians, and especially not filthy bandits, could stop him.

Jack would get everything soon enough. He just needed that mask, and his pocket watch chain. Then he could crush Tassiter's windpipe, then he could take the great pleasure of watching the life leave his pathetic eyes. Finally, he wouldn't be called 'John' in meetings or calls. He would be called the true name he would finally wear with pride.

Handsome Jack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not super confident about this piece anymore, not super sure why. I'm gonna keep writing it though, take tips from other writers.
> 
> Would any of the few people that read this stuff want me to write something with a ship? I have no ideas, and I'm not gonna sell out and go for Rhack. Even though I probably will in the long run. If any of you guys wanna comment with suggestions, I'd be grateful. But I haven't been getting any comments, so I don't exactly expect much interaction with any of the future chapters.
> 
> Anyway, have a good life.


	7. An Angel's False Blessing

Jack impatiently looked at the time on his com, his foot tapping against the cold floor of Professor Nakayama's laboratory. It was only the next morning since Jack covered his mirror, and he had been more on edge than ever. The progress on the mask was going by smoothly, and despite how creepy the scientist may be he had a strange knack for sculpting and design. Jack didn't want to press into it, afraid it might lead into further conversation with the man, but it was still an interesting thing to note. Drilling hinges into his face had become less daunting over the time waiting, and the man was growing more and more excited to wear it every time he saw it's progress.

The technology Nakayama had made that he said would imitate skin as closest as he could get it proved to be quite impressive, it looked real, like it belonged on anyone's face. It did impress Jack, but he would rather drink skag puke than admit that to Nakayama. The two remained silent in the lab, Jack taking paranoid glances at his comm, trying to fill the silence with the tap of his boot against the metal flooring. He looked over at Nakayama, who sat huddled over his desk with 3 lamps facing towards him, along with a tray of tools and drills Jack would never be trusted to touch. He looked at the mask, curious. Just as it had before, it looked gorgeous. Even more gorgeous than whatever his face had looked like before he stepped into that vault, and it was an immeasurable improvement than whatever he had on his face, wrapped up tight in bandages to protect from prying eyes. The artificial skin looked soft to the touch, beautifully sculpted to resemble Jack. The cheekbones were angled just as perfectly as Jack had requested, and the face was widened and looked older and more mature, but in a hot way, of course. His blinded eye was 'an easy fix' according to Nakayama. All that had to be done was put in another addition to the mask, a fake eye. It would act like a hologram image over his dead one, it would move around the same as his other working one, and it would be the same shade of green, no, brighter than what it had previously been. The only problem with the mask was that the skin tone was a few shades lighter compared to the tanned skin on the rest of his person. It wasn't a problem, the faster the mask could be finished the better, but Jack would definitely have to figure out how to make that look good.

'It won't be hard, gorgeous.' That voice in the back of his head reminded causing a happy shiver danced down Jack's spine. 'You can make anything look good, handsome.' With a smug smile, Jack turned around and looked at his blank comm again.

-

The mask was almost done, Nakayama had proudly declared later into the day. Jack was ecstatic, to say the least. Tomorrow it would be done, he would go down again for the last time and have the hinges drilled into secure areas of his skull. Finally he could uncover that mirror and look at himself proudly and confidently, without throwing up. His head spun at the possibility, a happy grin plastered onto his face as he pressed the black and red keycard against the pad by the door to his quarters. The doorway slid open with a muted clunk, and Jack stepped in, clouded by an excited haze. It felt amazing, nobody else mattered but him today, and all the days after. He might even find the energy to shower if he saw fit. Jack's haze was shaken out of him as his comm began buzzing, he pulled it out and looked at the no longer blank screen. It had been blank all day, but now he saw who was calling. Angel. He felt sick, what was he going to say? Why was he so scared to speak to her? Than he knew why. What if she saw his face and couldn't look at it either? What if she saw it and she was scared of him? His perfect angel couldn't be scared of him, that wasn't how it was supposed to work, he was supposed to protect her, not make her fear him. That thought made him panic more than he had in a few days, which was a big claim. He ended up hanging up on her without thinking. The panic subsided for a while, dying down. The storm was calming, and now Jack was sitting at the tiny dining room table, staring blankly at his comm, his keycard still loosely held in his grasp.

Then she called again.

This time he answered, his working eyes looking at the flickering image of Angel.

"Dad, are you still at work?" She asked, waiting for him to bombard her with forced love and appreciation she only pretended actually worked.

"No, I'm not. Just got to my room, pumpkin." He said, leaning down onto the table, his elbows propped up on the wooden surface. She saw his bandages in the video and frowned.

"Dad what happened? Are you okay?" This question made Jack pause.

It was strange. It had been over a week of no sleep, drinking, thinking, and doing irrational things, but he'd never actually decided on whether he was okay or now. It seemed like an easy question then, but coming from someone else, from Angel no less, it hit different. Was he okay? 

"I-" He started, then frowned. He decided to dismiss the question. He would answer that later, like he did every other personal question in his life. "It's fine. I'm fine. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine dad, the loader bots have been keeping me company. I just thought you'd have called sooner." She explained. Good, she was being taken care of. 

"Daddy's just been having a rough week, okay cupcake? He just needs a little more time in space to recover, even if it does mean more working." He told her. 

Angel just nodded at that. "I should go," she said. "I have things to do..." She shifted slightly on the screen. Jack nodded slightly and let her hang up. 

Then she was gone, her image flickered away and the 'call ended' screen popped up to replace it. Jack let out a pent-up sigh. Why had he been so happy? He knew Angel had nothing to do. She was 16, and protected in her safe room. He set his comm down and nervously itched at his arm. He had always been paranoid about Angel, ever since the accident. His wife had insisted she would be fine, a normal girl with a normal life, but no. Now his wife was gone and it was his fault for believing her. He had to keep Angel there, it was the only way to keep her safe from the people out there that wanted to take her away. He couldn't let anyone be taken away from him. But granted, it felt like she was already slipping away from his fingers like dust in the wind. It hurt to watch her drift away, but there was nothing he could do. Keeping her safe was his responsibility, and he would take it seriously. Just one more day, and he would be taken seriously again. Just one more day, and he would be handsome again.'

Just one more day, and Angel could look him in the eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I think I'm trying to actually finish this one, I wanna make the whole thing 10 chapters long, so hopefully I finish it! The next chapter should come out eventually, expect some descriptive face-drilling exercises with our crazy boy Jack.
> 
> I hope this chapter wasn't too short, I'm trying to make each chapter a good length and not crazy short or rushed.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	8. All Hail the King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally it is the day where the hinges will be drilled in, Jack has to be asleep for all of it. How bad could it be?

Jack was sitting on an operation table, nothing on but underwear and a hospital gown. Nakayama had insisted, and despite how weird it was that he requested it Jack just wanted the mask on as soon as possible. He looked at the small tray placed on the table next to where he was sitting, three polished hinges places on it, ready to be drilled in. Jack was getting more and more excited just looking at them, impatiently tapping his fingers on the operation table. He needed to be asleep for the process, Nakayama had mentioned that people tend to squirm when bones get drilled into, even when high out of their mind. Jack didn't object, truthfully, he needed sleep more than anyone on this space station, it was a wonder he could still work without passing out. Nakayama was in the corner of the small room at the counter, making sure the drill and the other tools were all in shape and ready to be used. Jack was pleased with this. The tools better damn work, his face couldn't be any more fucked up at this point.

"Alright!" Nakayama smiled and spun around, pivoting on his heel and carrying the tray of tools delicately. "Let's get to work! This should only take an hour, and you won't be conscious for any of it!" He reasurred, placing the tray down next to the polished hinges and pulling out a syringe of sleeping agent.

"You promise not to do anything creepy, right baldie?" Jack asked, a hand reaching down to tug the tacky hospital gown further down his legs to cover himself.

"I promise!" Nakayama beamed, not remotely reassuring in Jack's opinion.

"Cool, so uh. Get to work." Jack said, holding out his arm. Nakayama nodded obediently and stuck the syringe into his arm. It only hurt for a second, then Jack's vision started going blurry.

"Count down from 10, sir." Jack heard Nakayama faintly instruct. Jack nodded weakly and complied,

"10... 9... 8..." Then Jack nodded off, Nakayama laid him down, and he was out for the count.

-

Jack's eyes opened, but he wasn't awake. Everything around him was white, faint voices and clicks of office computers rattling around in his head. Where was he? Jack laid there for a second on the nonexistent floor, expecting an answer. But he got none. Jack slowly sat up, pushing himself up from what seemed to be the ground. He started walking forward, the voices getting louder. He couldn't hear what they were saying, just faint noises that sounded like people talking.

The trek into nothingness continued far longer, it felt like forever. He didn't grow tired though, not at all. The voices were still ringing, getting louder with every step. Then suddenly, after what felt like hours of walking, they all stopped at the same time.

One voice spoke up after Jack froze.

"Dad..." the voice came calling. It was Angel! Jack started walking again, straining to hear that voice again, see where it was coming from. Where was his little girl?! Then he saw her, she slowly appeared into existence, standing in front of him now. She wasn't his little girl anymore, was she? She was nearly as tall as him. Jack couldn't help but smile at her sparkling blue eyes, just like her mother's, they made him swell with pride just at the thought. "Dad," she spoke up, her voice soft and saddened. Jack's smile morphed into a frown.

"Yeah, Angel?" Jack answered, his voice soft and cracked, worn down by pride and emotion.

"You're an asshole." Was all she said, then she was gone, as fast as she had appeared.

Jack's heart sunk down into the pits of his stomach, was that all she had to say to him? She could never believe that, not his Angel. Jack felt sick, old, abandoned, empty. What had he done wrong? He'd been doing his absolute best all these years, for nothing? Why would she say that to him? Jack looked down at his hands, fear and sadness stirring in his stomach. What would he do now? Well, it wasn't like his mind had any other option. He decided to do as he always did.

Carry the sadness along with him.

And so his trek into nothingness continued, his feet growing tired. The white void grew gray as the hours went by, and those same voice began calling again, none of them recognizable like Angel's. He still couldn't understand a word they were saying. His mind was giving him time to think, but he wasn't having it. He hadn't taken a real time to solve issues that weren't work related in decades, he wasn't planning on doing it now. It began feeling like the entire world was dragging behind him, nothing felt okay. He felt old, heavy, worn out, like he couldn't move on anymore. He didn't know how he had ever managed in life before all this, how had he picked up ladies before, how did he even manage to fall in love? Why had she loved him? He was not worth any love, as the years had shown him. Nothing he had done in his 38, almost 39 years of life had shown him that any of this was worth it. Everyone had left him, and he had enough stab wounds in his back to show that he couldn't handle anymore. He shouldn't have trusted anyone in the first place, that was why he kept on suffering. 

The voices were getting louder, a few even speaking words to him. The grayness grew black, and his body grew numb to the black, endless void.

'Kill the bastards, John. Kill them all.' One very close voice whispered faintly against him. 

"Don't call me John." Jack gruffly stated, continuing to drag heavy feet across the strange floor. 

'Handsome Jack will cleanse the bastards.' Another spoke up. Jack smiled, pride sparking up deep in his gut. Yes he would. The other voices joined in, louder this time.

'Cleanse the bastards!' They all chanted, random voices at random times. Jack agreed with every single one of them. He would kill all those bastards on that good for nothing planet, and he would free the world from all things Bandit. He felt his steps grow lighter, he was at a jogging pace. Jack saw something in the distance, a mirror, floating in the void. He ran to it, excitement running through his veins. He looked into the glass mirror, and his reflection looked back at him. The voices around him were chanting in unison, Jack felt so alive! He could do anything! He was amazing! The reflection showed it all! A perfectly sculpted face, and a gorgeous black suit with golden stripes lining the sleeves. He was the CEO, no, the Ruler of the Universe. Everything was under his control. Jack smiled proudly into the mirror, the voices became deafening, but he didn't care, he just smiled. Then, the mirror shattered, and Jack began to fall. But he didn't care, he knew that he could kill death itself, because he was Handsome Jack.

Handsome Jack could do anything, buy anything, he was all powerful. He felt like a god. He didn't need anyone! No one would make him feel as accomplished as he made himself feel. Absolutely everything was perfect, it was all clicking into the right places. The killing machine trapped and hidden between the folds of his mind was all that mattered now, it didn't scare him anymore. Handsome Jack welcomed it. John was dead, even Jack was dead, now it was just Handsome Jack, and entirely different being altogether. 

'All hail Handsome Jack.' Every single voice chanted, all in unison and coming from every possible direction.

And with that, Jack was stirred from his drug-induced slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kinda proud of this chapter? I mean not much, but I really think that I put enough things in the dream to imply he has 100% mentally snapped. I think this is actually gonna end up being 9 chapters? This might end in the next chapter! Let's see though, who know? I never plan these out beforehand. 
> 
> Anyhoo, try to comment if you want, I love reading them. Have a good life!


	9. The Final Decent into Madness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally the deed can be done, everything is going Jack's way for once.

Jack's vision was blurry, and bright. The lights were too bright and his jaw felt sore, coupled with a slight headache starting at two points on his temples. His eyes scanned the same operation room from when he was put to sleep, still blank and professional. He looked down at his clothes, a damp stain of blood on the collar. It must have gotten a little messy, maybe not wearing his clothes was a good idea. Nakayama stepped into the room again, a clipboard in his hand, being propped up by his forearm. He was scribbling notes onto a pad of paper, not paying attention to Jack for once. Finally Jack slowly sat up and cleared his throat. With that, Nakayama flinched and turned to the man.

"Jack! Ah! The operation was a perfect success, you look absolutely gorgeous, I envy you!" The professor exclaimed. Jack nodded simply, carefully getting up off the operation table.

"Is this headache gonna go away?" Jack asked.

Now that Jack thought about it, his face felt... rubbery. Strange. Not in a bad way, honestly it felt very warm and snug, but it was still different. Was this how the mask felt?

"Yes of course, sir! It should go away by later today. However, the drill points will remain sensitive to the touch, I suggest keeping the mask on for a little longer so the points can heal more." The professor explained. Jack nodded absentmindedly.

"Good, now get out of my sight. This never happened." Jack spat, laying down lines he knew Nakayama would fear to cross. And with that, he walked out of the room to change. 

-

Thank god he was finally back, he felt confident, a whole new wave of excited confidence washing over him as he walked through the halls for the first time in weeks. It felt like people were scared of him, he could feel his posture was even different. He truly was a whole new man. His boots tapped against the Hyperion flooring of the hub, his swagger at a whole new level, even before the vault. His office welcomed him, but he wanted to take a small trip to the bathroom. He wanted to see what all that waiting had lead up to. Finally he could see the result of everything. Jack stepped towards the mirror, the same one he looked over on that first day of horror. He felt like all his past hangups were being crushed with every confident step. Finally, he saw himself in the mirror.

A grin spread over his face. It was perfect. It was angled in all the right places, hell, it even made his face wider. He looked younger, but so much smarter and intimidating. Jack spent a second contorting his expression, gleefully watching the mask do exactly as his muscles told him. Then he remembered the eye. It looked so damn normal now, it was amazing. It was almost more green than it had been before it was blinded. He was gorgeous now, truly handsome.

He felt someone tap at his shoulder, some assistant from down the hall most likely, but Jack flinched, his gun sliding out of it's holster with ease.

"Sir!- Sir I was just wondering if you-" Then the man was dead on the floor after a quick shot from Jack's pistol. 

"Goddamnit-" Jack swore, stooping down to poke at the fresh body. He didn't mean to do that. Of course the guy went down in one shot, no one up here wore shields in the office, not even him.

Well, things happen. At least the kid wouldn't have to climb any higher. And anyway, he had much bigger fish to fry, or strangle, more like. That would be happening soon. At the thought, Jack's adrenaline kicked back in. The kill had only heightened his excitement. He would finally show all those whores on Pandora that he would not be pushed around ever again. A smile spread across his face, and with that, he walked out of the bathroom. He was more than ready.

-

The office was dark, no one in it but Jack's target. Tingles went down Jack's spine, he was excited to finally feel the first second of true satisfaction in weeks. He looked around the office curiously, taking in the surroundings. He had been here a few times before, but not like this. It had been to deliver papers, or news, or get fired all over again than re-hired. This was completely different.

The floor was black, so were the walls, a thick streak of red going across all of the walls. It was dark already without the lights on, but the color scheme made it much darker. Jack would change this entire office the second he got the job he oh so deserved. His boots didn't make much of a sound on the floor, so he had the element of surprise in his favor. His heart rate was already picking up, he was so ready.

Then finally he saw him, that bastard. Tassiter was engrossed in his work, perfect. This was the perfect time, finally, everything was going his way. Finally, Jack could get his way after weeks of being dragged along by the assholes above and below him. 

Jack slipped out his pocket watch, tightly wrapping the long chain around his free hand to keep it from slipping from his grip. He crept behind Tassiter, ready to strike at any moment. Then Tassiter looked up, now aware of the presence that was so close to him. He tried to let out a yelp, but Jack was on him before he could get anything out.

Jack wrapped the chain tight around his bosses neck, squeezing his windpipe with skill. He pushed the man to the floor, his knee pressing Tassiter into the black floor by his back. Tassiter choked desperately, sputtering and squirming under Jack, but Jack was much stronger than his boss. Jack pulled even tighter, the chain remaining strong under the stress of his pull. Tassiter continued to squirm, but in response Jack only rammed his knee deeper into the man's back. 

"John!" Tassiter wheezed out, and Jack pulled even harder in response, fully cutting off all oxygen that Tassiter could get. He leaned in real close to let him in on one little secret.

"It's Jack, you asshole." He grumbled. Jack felt Tassiter's struggling and squirming begin to stop, life starting to finally leave the man. He was unconscious. Jack's smile widened, his adrenaline shooting up with bursts of excitement from the kill. Jack's grip stayed for a while, until he knew for a fact Tassiter was gone. "There was go," Jack said, getting up, letting Tassiter's dead head hit the ground with a crack. He stood up, looking out at the view of Elpis, that rotten moon. But now that he was up here, everything looked hell of a lot more gorgeous. He reached over and called Tassiter's old secretary.

"Call me Jack, sweetheart." Was all he said.

Finally everything was done.

Jack had everything he wanted.

But there was just one more thing he needed to do, and it was wipe those bandits off the map of Pandora, once and for all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! I think I rushed the ending a bit, but I did my best! Now just to come up with something else to work on...
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading! This was satisfying to end, and I had a few bumps, but I'm thankful at least some people liked what I wrote. I hope y'all keep reading what I write.


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